


Hippotherapy

by Fleurisse



Category: Diablotin
Genre: F/M, Physical Disability, Recovery, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurisse/pseuds/Fleurisse





	Hippotherapy

There was no saddle large enough for Miel’s broad back at Madds’ family’s country home, populated as it was by retired or unsuitable racehorses, castoffs from his uncle’s stables, so Gen improvised with a folded horse blanket. She had not ridden horseback in years, and was anxious that she might somehow have forgotten how. She needn’t have worried. Riding came to her as easily as breathing. It was good to inhale the sweet horse scent and to feel the powerful animal respond to the lightest of touches from her heels, knees and hands. She put the big old mare through her paces while Madds watched melancholically from the sidelines.

In a bright spate of happiness, she pulled Miel up near Madds. “Would you like to try?” she offered. Madds looked surprised and not a little concerned. “Miel’s strong,” Gen reassured him. “She can carry both of us, if you’re apprehensive about falling.”

“Falling’s the least of my concerns,” Madds replied. “With this leg, even mounting will be… heh… an insurmountable task.”

Gen slid off Miel’s back and passed Madds the reins. “Hold on to her, and I’ll pile up some hay bales for a mounting block.” 

“Genny,” Madds started, then stopped, looking about and raising his eyebrows pointedly in the direction of various servants going about their business, whether that be mucking out stalls or hanging the laundry to dry. He lowered his voice “I’d rather not be a laughingstock for the staff.”

“You can just fire them if they laugh,” Gen replied glibly.

“No, contrary to popular belief, I can’t. My parents would be irate, my sisters would argue my reasoning until my ears drop off, the aggrieved would complain to that pesky nascent union of theirs, and it all becomes an immense headache I’d rather not have to deal with. Besides, I just wouldn’t do that, you know.”

“I know. And I daresay so do they. Which is why they won’t laugh.” Abandoning a sputtering Madds to horse-holding duty, Gen set about dragging several bales of hay into the center aisle of the barn just inside the doors. That done, she built a broad bale stairway that she hoped he would be able to navigate without too much difficulty. Then she returned to him to reclaim Miel’s reins. Madds looked pale so she asked what was the matter.

“It’s the pain, all right?” Madds practically snarled. “I’m afraid it will hurt. My leg was nearly blown off, and nothing in there got put back together right. Sitting astride a horse is going to pull on muscles that are physically incapable of stretching that far anymore.”

“Okay,” Gen replied. “You don’t have to try, if you don’t want to. But what if it _doesn’t_ hurt?”

“Void!” Madds hissed, practically throwing the reins at her as he hobble-stalked with his cane towards the bales of hay. Gen followed behind him, leading Miel and tying her up by the makeshift mounting block. She reached out a few times to steady Madds as he laboriously clambered up the bales, only to have her hands swatted away. She worried that he might see her flinch from the pain he was unknowingly inflicting upon her, and tried to cover it up, but he probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway, in his current irascible state.

From the top of the hay staircase, Madds swung his bad leg over Miel’s back. Gen could hardly bear to watch as he settled his weight, in case it really did hurt him terribly. She saw him wince and swallow down a pained exclamation. It was hard to see him so vulnerable. Anguished, she wondered if this had been a really bad idea, after all. “I’m sorry – are you all right?”

Madds nodded, gritting his teeth while pounding his good thigh as a distraction. “It’s not completely unbearable. It’s just hanging like so much dead weight, that’s the trouble. Stirrups- stirrups would be good,” he panted.

Wasting no time, Gen expertly untied Miel’s reins, passed them over the horse’s head, and dropped them gently on her withers, where Madds could reach them. “You don’t have a saddle big enough for Miel. Here, hold your leg up.” 

Uncertainly, Madds did as he was told, and Gen clambered on to Miel behind him, nudging herself as close as she possibly could so that her own legs could support his. “All right now- let it go. Is that better?” Madds nodded as she slipped her arms around his waist. His injured leg was warm and heavy against hers. She could feel his torso heaving and realized that the pain must be much worse than he was letting on. She sat with him until it seemed to subside. Gentle, patient Miel stood quietly under their combined weight, eliciting praise from Gen. “She knows neither of us are what we used to be, doesn’t she?”

“Probably,” Madds agreed.

“Is this enough for you, or would you like to ask her to walk forward with us?”

“I think I could manage a walk. Definitely not a trot, though. Void, I don’t even want to think about the jarring that would cause…”

“Then don’t. You take the reins. They hurt my hands, and besides, I can’t see past your back. I’ll help with the leg commands,” Gen offered. Madds’ shoulders shifted as he gathered the reins. She could feel how tense he was, but even so, it was pleasant being pressed up close against his broad back. Almost like old times. She felt his legs flex and added her own nudge to Miel’s flanks with her heels. They moved forward into the stable yard, and Gen felt a little bubble of happiness as Madds relaxed against her. He’d loved riding so much; Gen couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for him to be forced to give it up. “There, see? Between your good hands and my good legs we…” Gen paused, realizing that exclaiming “we can do anything!” would not only be patently ridiculous, but would also be a grievous lie.

“Are almost a single fully functional human being?” Madds supplied dryly.

“Something like that,” Gen replied, feeling rather deflated. 

“Genny… sorry. This is great. Really. I’ll never be a jockey, but at least I’m sitting on a horse, right?”

" _Riding_ a horse,” Gen corrected. Then, trying to rally herself, she added. “You never would have been a jockey, anyway. You’re half giant.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Being reminded of her height might have hurt, coming from anyone else. Gen, however, was just glad that in spite of everything, Madds was still able to tease. She gave him a quick hug, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades, and nearly burst into tears when he loosened one of his hands from the reins to give hers the lightest of squeezes.

“I wondered about your hands… the gloves, but it didn’t seem polite to ask,” Madds began. “Are they very painful?”

“They’re… well. I guess the best way to describe it is they feel like they’re badly scalded. All the time. It doesn’t stop or get better. Like your leg, I suppose.”

Madds immediately returned his hand to the reins, much to Gen’s dismay. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll try to remember to be careful.”

“It’s all right. Honestly, I’d rather deal with the pain than never touch, or be touched, again.” Realizing how that might sound, Gen hastily added “Well that and I actually have to deal with the pain or I’d be utterly useless for any kind of work I can think of. But I can’t afford not to work, so…” Gen shrugged. “Drinking helps dull it, but if I keep that up, I’ll end up damaging my liver or worse. So. I just have to keep going. How are you doing?”

“Last circumnavigation of the stable yard for me today, I’m afraid. Leg’s had enough.”

“All right,” Gen assented, giving Madds another little hug around his waist. Truth be told, her own thigh muscles were aching from having to grip Miel’s barrel while simultaneously supporting Madds’ injured leg. She would have forced herself to keep going, though, if Madds had wanted to. They finished their last circuit of the stable yard and brought Miel to a stop next to Gen’s improvised mounting block. She dismounted, then considered how best to get Madds down without jarring his shattered leg. “Slide off onto the hay bales?” she suggested. “That way, if you have any mishaps, at least it’ll be a soft landing.”

Madds nodded, and Gen positioned herself to catch him and help break his fall if needed. It was a good thing she did, for he landed heavily and his good foot did slip off the bale. She collapsed under his weight, pressed between him and the hay bales like the filling of a sandwich. She started laughing; they must look so ridiculous, and then Madds chuckled, too. “Are you all right?” He asked, concerned in spite of their humourous situation.

“Yes, or I will be once you get off of me!” Gen giggled, pushing at his back until he was able to right himself. They sat next to each other on the hay bales in companionable silence, recovering. Gen was grateful that Miel’s reassuring bulk had screened their embarrassing moment from the scrutiny of curious servants. “Side saddles,” she blurted suddenly.

“Huh?” 

“Side saddles. I never used one. Neither did Maman, but once when I was a girl, Duchess Livianne came to Arguvan to inspect all the settlers’ holdings, and she was riding side saddle. I was curious how she could ride like that, so I snuck away to inspect her horse when she was busy doing a speech and no one was looking. Her saddle had this brace that held up her right thigh; that’s how she could stay on. If you looked into it, I bet you could find a saddlemaker who could figure out a similar brace for your bad leg, but allow you to ride astride, all man-like. If you wanted to ride, I mean.” 

“Maybe. I’ll consider it. But I think I’ve had enough equestrian excitement for one day. How about we put Miel away, and go back up to the manor for some tea?”

“Sure,” Gen replied, and passed Madds his cane.


End file.
